


Honor Over All

by Tambourine



Series: Between the Devil and the Deep [1]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tambourine/pseuds/Tambourine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever knew Mike had been in the Navy until they recalled him to active duty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The morning was not shaping up to be a good one.

His alarm clock just hadn’t gone off even though he _clearly remembered_ setting it the night before. He had ended up waking up fifteen minutes late. On a day where he was most definitely supposed to be meeting with a client in a little less than an hour. Cursing, he sprung out of bed and practically darted over to his closet.

He had never gotten dressed so quickly in his life.

Glancing at his clock anxiously, he noted that he had almost made up for the time he had overslept by. He _should_ run by his post box to see what bills were due, but he wasn’t sure he had enough time. After a brief consideration, he decided that his bill were, in fact, important and should be paid as soon as possible.

Hastily, he shoved the day’s mail into his messenger bag. He was still running a bit behind. He’d just bring his mail along and pay his bills on his lunch break. If he managed to get one today of course. And that had yet to be seen.

\--

By ten o’ clock his day had improved very little.

He had _finally_ made it to the office (and on time, luckily) to find that the client had called Harvey and rescheduled his appointment. So, really, he was just an hour early to work when he didn't have to be. Not that anyone seemed to care.

In hurry to leave his apartment that morning, he had forgotten the research he had spent most of the night writing up on his coffee table. He ended up spending that hour he shouldn't have been at the office for retyping the _entire_ thing. Which was just annoying.

 _And _in addition to the already massive caseload he had for Harvey, Louis had deigned to bestow upon him _more_ paperwork. If he had to work over lunch, then he sure as hell was taking an _actual_ lunch break instead of just scarfing down whatever he got from a vending machine.__

 _\--_

The file room wasn’t quite the place he had in mind when he said he wanted a lunch break. He had _meant_ being able to leave the office for the hour that he was _legally entitled_ to, but his newest client had a bit of a crisis and so here he was. In this dusty, musty, cluttered room eating a sandwich he had bought from the little café downstairs, working.

Frankly, he was about ready to tear his own hair out in frustration. The paperwork he was filling out was just _tedious_. He was pretty sure that they had just changed the wording around a few times and been asking the same question for the past five questions at this point. Grinding his teeth, he slammed the manila folder closed lest he “accidentally” do something unfortunate to it.

He brought his hands to his temples, massaging them gently. He needed to find _something_ to (very briefly) take his mind of the frustration of his job. He wouldn’t make any progress with his work if he was irritated.

Oh, right, his bills. He could budget for next month. That would be a welcome distraction. Or as welcome of a distraction he could manage for now. He reached across the table and pulled his messenger bag towards him by the strap. His mail was still mostly together, so he just reached in and pulled as much as he could out at once before fishing around for any stragglers.

He shuffled through his post unenthusiastically. Nothing looked _too_ , too interesting. But truth be told he wasn’t paying _that_ much attention to it.

Bill.

Bill.

Advert.

Coupons.

He froze when he got to the FedEx envelope. He held it, staring disbelievingly.

No.

Now?

Hands shaking, he tore open the envelope.

 **BY ORDER OF THE SECRETARY OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY  
COMPLIANCE WITH THE FOLLOWING ORDERS IS MANDATORY.**

Suddenly, repetitive paperwork seemed utterly insignificant.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn’t know how long he sat there, just staring at the papers in front of him, but it must have been a while because he could hear someone walking towards him.

Moving quickly, he shoved the envelope back into his messenger bag. He knew he’d have to deal with it soon, but he couldn’t. Not now.

“Harvey’s looking for you,” a clipped voice said. Rachel. Well, at least she was talking to him again. Even if she was still being a bit short with him.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he muttered, shaking himself. Focus. He could think about this later.

Rachel gave him an odd look and seemed like she was about to say something but thought better of it. Instead, she turned on her heel and strode quickly out of the room.

Guess she was still mad at him.

Distracted, he swept all of his things (other than the things he needed) back into his bag, not even bothering to fit everything neatly. He followed Rachel out of the room. It wouldn’t do to keep Harvey waiting.

-

Harvey was already waiting for him when he got to his office.

“Do you have the Pierce briefs?” he asked, not looking up from the work in front of him.

He should say something clever now. Anything.

Harvey frowned and finally glanced up.

“What’s up with you today?”

Too late.

“Nothing. Nothing’s up.”

Harvey threw him a disbelieving look.

Yeah. That hadn’t sounded too convincing to him either.

“Mike,” Harvey prompted, staring intently. He wanted answers and he didn’t have the time or inclination to wait around for them.

Well. It’s not like there was a better time.

He reached into his bag and pulled out the envelope. He didn’t need to see it again. He already knew it by heart. He limply held it out towards Harvey.

“I’m being recalled to active duty,” he stated numbly, loosely grasping the letter in his hand.

With an unreadable face, Harvey reached forward and took the letter from his associate.

 **BY ORDER OF THE SECRETARY OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY  
COMPLIANCE WITH THE FOLLOWING ORDERS IS MANDATORY.**

 _Lieutenant Michael J. Ross,_

 _This letter is to inform you that effective in 48 hours you are being recalled to active duty military service to fulfill the remainder of your service obligation. In one week’s time, you are to report to your duty station at Naval Amphibious Base Little Creek in Little Creek, Virginia to receive further orders._

 _Anthony Hall  
Secretary, U.S Navy_

Harvey stared dumbly at the letter and then back at his associate.

“When?” he managed to get out.

“I have to be ready to leave in a week.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Harvey muttered more to himself than his associate.

“Harvey,” he gently interrupted, grinning wryly. “It’s the Navy. It’s already figured out.”


	3. Chapter 3

He put on his most charming smile as he approached the desk.

“Hi, Tina. Would it be possible to schedule a meeting with Ms. Pearson? Preferably as soon as possible.”

The secretary gave him a scrutinizing look. Like she wasn’t quite buying the smile he was giving her. He smiled a bit wider. Just in case.

“Here, let me check,” she finally responded, tapping away at her keyboard. “Okay, she’s free for about forty minutes at two. That’s in about an hour. Would that be okay?”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

The fact that his smile fell away almost immediately didn’t go unnoticed.

“Mike,” she called out as he turned to leave. “Is everything okay?”

He gave a strained smile.

“Everything’s fine.”

Neither of them believed him.

\--

The next hour was spent in a haze of half-finished paperwork and planning words. He knew what he had to do, but not how to go about doing it or even where to start. Never in his life had he imagined that he’d actually be going through with this, but in his heart, he knew it was what had to be done.

Time seemed to pass both at an agonizingly slow and dizzyingly fast pace and before he even realized that any time had passed it was two o’ clock. And time to meet with Jessica.

Now or never, he supposed.


	4. Chapter 4

“Ms. Pearson,” he greeted cordially.

She looked up from the papers on her desk. Casually, she filed them away into a manila envelope and set them off to the side giving the associate her undivided attention.

“Mr. Ross,” she returned, nodding her head slightly in acknowledgement.

He took a deep breath in preparation for what he was about to say next.

“I’m here to officially hand in my resignation,” he began handing over a carefully worded and typed letter.

“I apologize for the short notice, but something unavoidable has come up and I don’t think it would be fair to ask the firm for an amount of indefinite time.”

She raised an elegantly styled eyebrow.

“Might I ask what this something is?” she asked, more in curiosity than disgruntlement.

“I’ve been recalled to active duty military service.”

The eyebrow moved a little bit farther up.

“I see,” she uttered pensively.

Her face quickly shifted into an unfamiliar expression.

“And why are you giving this to me instead of Harvey or Louis?”

He gave her a small knowing smile.

“Harvey already knows, but something tells me that if I gave him this letter, it would never make it to Human Resources.”

She could only nod in concession. He had a point there.

“I trust that Louis will have a copy of this letter by the end of the day,” she half-questioned, half-stated.

He gave a short nod.

“Yes, ma’am. He will.”

The room descended into an uncomfortable silence.

“Ms. Pearson. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Thank you for your service to the firm,” she returned. “And our nation.”

“The honor has been all mine.”

Politely excusing himself, he turned to leave.

“Mr. Ross,” she called after him. “Good luck.”

And with a small smile and a subdued ‘thanks’ he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

“Rachel,” he called from the open doorway to her office. “Can I come in? I need to talk to you.”

“What,” she replied shortly, obviously not pleased with the interruption and even less pleased with the interrupter.

“Can I come in?”

“If this is some attempt to get me to help you out on a case,” she began.

“It’s not. It’s important,” he quickly interjected.

She pursed her lips and looked up from the work she had been pretending to be busy with.

“Fine,” she reluctantly agreed.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“I thought you should hear this from me before you hear it from anyone else.”

He could see the thinly veiled curiosity on her face and braced himself to continue.

“I’m leaving the firm. Friday’s my last day.”

He had fully intended for that to be the end of their discussion. He should have known that he couldn’t get away with leaving it at that.

“What,” she cried out in disbelief.

Apparently, his plans to run away were much more obvious than he thought because Rachel saw right through him and fixed him with a fierce look.

“No. You can’t just drop a bombshell like that and then leave,” she frowned at him, mildly annoyed but trying not to let it show.

He unconsciously curled in on himself a small bit. He really didn’t want to get too far into the reasons now. It would be a long conversation. A very long one. And it would just make her worry for him.

“I’m leaving the firm,” he repeated.

“Why?”

In that moment, he knew that Rachel knew he was hiding something from her and she would not stand to have _this_ (whatever _this_ was) added to the small pile of things that Mike wasn’t telling her. And he _wanted_ to tell her, but didn’t even know where to start. So he didn’t.

“Because I have to.”

“But why?” she pressed with growing frustration.

He couldn’t do it. He steeled himself for what was likely to be a difficult conversation.

“I’m being recalled to active duty,” he quietly confessed.

He saw her reel back in a sad, strange mixture of shock, surprise, and dismay. And then it was like any lingering anger she had towards him evaporated almost instantaneously because suddenly it just wasn’t _important_ anymore.

“When are you coming back?” she asked after a long while.

He bit back the urge, the _need_ , to tell her he might not come back. To the firm, he mentally amended. But now wasn’t the time to be talking like that and if she kept looking at him like that, like she might never see him again, then he wouldn’t ever know what to do, what to say.

“I don’t know,” he replied, looking away.

“You have to know something. Something.”

“Rachel,” he admitted, “I don’t. I just don’t know.”

And, quite honestly, for once in his life, he didn’t.


	6. Chapter 6

Managing to pull himself out of Rachel’s office was an ordeal in itself. She didn’t want to seem to let him out of her sight even for a minute now. It took a series of reassurances that he would, in fact, not disappear immediately and would stay in touch even after he left before he felt even the slightest bit comfortable leaving his still slightly distraught friend’s office.

He started walking. He had no particular destination in mind and he wasn’t even sure what he would accomplish by neglecting his work, from avoiding the reality of the situation, but still he walked. Out of Rachel’s office, down the hall, past the receptionist, through the associate’s den. By some small miracle, the other associates didn’t seem to notice him while they were doing whatever grunt work Louis had them doing. He managed to pass through without any comments. Past Louis’ office, farther down the hall, to Donna’s desk.

Donna was giving him an odd look. Like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run over and hug him and never let go or yell at him for leaving them, for not even telling them that him leaving them like this was even in the realm of possibility. But she didn’t say anything to him, she just wordlessly gestured into Harvey’s office.

Harvey stood at his window, back to the door. He didn’t even have to turn around.

“Jessica tells me you’ve handed in your resignation.”

“I have,” Mike confirmed solemnly.

Harvey was silent for a long moment.

“You know we can hold onto your job for you while you’re deployed, right? According to USERRA-”

“I know what USERRA says,” he gently interrupted.

“Then you know that you don’t _have_ to resign.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll probably be gone for at _least_ a year. At least.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

He sighed deeply. Now they had reached the crux of the matter. He _had_ to make his point now. There was no more dancing around the real issue. Not anymore.

“Harvey. This is a way out for both of us,” he murmured quietly. “The Navy, they said they’d take care of my grandmother while I’m gone. For as long as I'm active duty. They'll take over the payment of her nursing home.”

He kept his eyes fixed to a point beyond his boss. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his face. To see his face.

“Lola’s records won’t hold up forever. It’s only a matter of time before someone finds out that there’s no coursework or networking or something else small that should be there backing that degree. No one will ever have to know about all of this.”

Harvey remained silent.

It was time to drive the point home, to _make_ him understand.

“If I resign now, no one will question me leaving the firm. They'll think it's because I've been recalled. No one will ever have to know about all of this.”

Still, Harvey didn’t say a word. Like he knew that there was nothing, literally _nothing_ , he could do or say that could make Mike change his mind or to make him stay. It wasn't even like Mike _had_ a choice anymore. There was no legal loophole he, the best closer in New York, could exploit to tell Anthony Hall, Secretary of the US Navy, to shove it and to leave _his_ associate alone.

He knew that Mike had a point. Realistically speaking, this little charade of theirs couldn’t go on forever. One day, maybe not even any day soon, someone would figure it out and then they’d both be in a _lot_ of trouble. Not just with Jessica or the firm, but with the law. This could be a clean break. A way out for both of them with no repercussions.

So why wasn’t he feeling the slightest bit relieved?


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Mike had gotten around to seeing Louis, he was just exhausted. Both physically and mentally. He was already operating on significantly less sleep than probably anyone else in the firm, had a rather hellish case of his own to work on, _and_ was helping Harvey out with his case.

And, truthfully, he just didn’t feel like dealing with Louis right now.

Resigning himself to the fact that he would, in fact, have to do this, he dragged himself to his other boss’ office.

Louis was marking up some paperwork with a blue pen when he stopped by. He didn’t even look up. But then again, this visit was hardly expected. He knocked sharply on the glass by the door and didn’t even hesitate in entering the room as soon as Louis acknowledged his presence.

“I’m resigning,” he stated bluntly, handing over his last remaining copy of his letter of resignation. As much as he would have like to just leave it at that and walk away, he knew Louis would have _something_ to say and it was best to just get it over with while they were in private.

In any other situation, the double take Louis did would have been _hysterical_ , but Mike couldn’t find it in himself to even crack a small grin. He was just tired.

“Michael,” Louis started, voice trying, and failing, to conceal his surprise. He gave him a scrutinizing look, as if he were trying to determine whether or not this was a ploy to get time off or a better cubicle or something equally trivial.

He put the letter down on his desk, fully intending to read over it later, but having neither the time nor the inclination to do so immediately. Not while Mike was still standing right across from him.

“Friday’s going to be my last day,” Mike elaborated. “ It’s really short notice, but, well, the circumstances are unavoidable.”

“Circumstances?”

Mike gestured at the unread letter.

“I’m being recalled to active duty effective in 48 hours. I’m being given a few days to sort out any business, but I’ll be leaving on Saturday for base.”

The number of times Louis Litt had been rendered speechless in his lifetime could probably be counted on one hand.

This was definitely one of those times.

Internally, he floundered for words. He wished he knew what to say if there was even something that could be said at a moment like this.

“I’ll have the Dobson and Yellman briefs done by then,” Mike assured. Not that Louis really cared about that in light of recent events. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the nicest or most sympathetic guy around, but he wasn’t _heartless_ (no matter how much he liked to pretend otherwise sometimes).

“Do you…know where you’re going?” he asked, somewhat awkwardly because there was no guide or manual for this. He was on his own in this situation and, to be honest, he had no clue what to do now.

Mike shrugged.

“I’ll find out on Saturday. They’ll tell me where I’m going when I get to base.”

He nodded solemnly.

He wanted to say something else to him. Anything else.

He wished he knew what else to say, but he didn’t. So he said nothing.

He let Mike Ross walk out of his office and he said nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

That night he took full advantage of being the last person in the office and used the opportunity to start cleaning out his cubicle while no one was there to comment. It wasn’t as if there was much to clean out. The cubicle was tiny and he wasn’t much one for adding _too_ many personal touches to his workplace. Especially not with some of the people he worked with. He suspected that if he had something of significant personal value there, it would _disappear_ or be damaged somehow in someone's fit of pettiness, so he just kept it at home. Probably better to keep those things as separate as possible anyways.

He finished packing as much as he could into his messenger bag, leaving only the things essential to his job still at his workstation. He didn’t know how to feel when he realized it didn’t look that much different. At least that meant no one else would probably notice. He didn’t really want to deal with that so soon. He still had to tell Grammy and she deserved to know before people he didn’t even particularly like in his office did. Hell, the only reason she hadn’t been the first to know was because arrangements had to be made at work for after he left and it was _already_ short-notice. This was something he needed to tell her face-to-face. He had to make sure he left the office on time if not early tomorrow so he could tell her.

With new resolve, he sat back down at his desk to try to finish some more of his work. He had a lot to get done in the next few days.

\--

He finally managed to get to a stopping point in his work at around eleven o’ clock that night.

It wasn’t an early night, but it wasn’t, by far, the latest night he had ever pulled while he was working at the firm.

He felt a small pang of sadness at the thought that this would probably be his last all-nighter at Pearson Hardman.

\--

By some stroke of sheer compassion, Harvey had agreed to let him take a long lunch hour (“or two” Donna had added, fully knowing what he intended to do on his break and Harvey hadn’t objected but Mike didn’t know if it was because he agreed with her reasoning or because he feared her)

He reached the nursing home at half past twelve.

Walking with purpose, he gave the staff and residents of the facility cordial greetings. Most of them seemed a bit taken aback, but he supposed that was more than likely because he was there on a weekday during normal work hours than any unusual behaviour on his part.

She was reading a book when he finally saw her, reading glasses perched precariously on the tip of her nose as she squinted down at the text in front of her.

She looked up from her book almost immediately. He never had been able to sneak up on her (even when he was trying to).

He didn’t even have to open his mouth before she gave him a knowing look.

“Come here, Michael,” she sighed, closing her book and motioning for him to come closer.

He grabbed the chair in the corer and pulled it closer to her bedside.

They sat in silence for a moment.

He opened his mouth to explain to her. He owed her an explanation, but he didn’t know how to tell her that he had to leave. Again.

She beat him to it.

“Michael, I knew as soon as you walked in what you were going to tell me,” she assured him, patting his hand comfortingly.

His shoulders slumped in a mixture of relief and weariness.

“I’m leaving on Saturday morning,” he muttered.

She nodded calmly.

“Do you know where you’re being sent?” she asked.

“Not yet. Right now it’s just Little Creek, but I don’t know if…” he trailed off, clutching her had a bit tighter.

“It’ll be okay,” she comforted.

“I’ll write. And call when I can,” he insisted, more to confirm it than for either of their benefits. They both already knew he would write her at _least_ once a week.

“I know you will,” she smiled. “You’ve always been so good to me.”

He gave her a weak smile in return.

“It’s because I love you, Grammy.”

And she smiled a little harder back because she had never, _ever_ doubted it for a moment in her life.


	9. Chapter 9

Leaving his grandmother was not easy. 

In the end, the only way he was able to force himself to go back to work was with the promise to himself and his Grammy that he would be back later on in the week. Both of them knew that what he really meant was that he’d try to visit as much as he possibly could in the next few days. He didn’t like to be pessimistic, but in all likelihood he was going somewhere dangerous and she was getting on in age. And as much he hated thinking the way he was, he didn’t want this to be the last time they saw each other should something happen to either of them. He hated being a realist sometimes.

With those rather depressing thoughts, he hailed a taxi and made his way back to the office. He still had work to do. 

\--

Work seemed much slower without the constant tug-of-war between Harvey and Louis. Both of them appeared to be giving him time to finish what were probably his last cases with the firm. Unfortunately, this meant that when he finished all of them at five there was literally nothing left for him to do. 

He sat in silence for a brief moment. 

Now what? 

He should run the files up to Harvey and Louis (respectively), but then what? 

He honestly doubted either of his bosses would give him more paperwork. Even with his astoundingly short turnaround time, no more cases would likely be finished within the next two days and it wouldn’t make sense to give him work he wouldn’t be able to finish. All he’d really be able to do was edit briefs and even that seemed a bit pointless because if it were for a new case someone else would probably have to go back and redo his work. Edits were a very personalized thing. The way he edited was very different from the way Harold or Gregory did. Everyone did it a bit differently and he didn’t think his own personal brand of shorthand would make sense to anyone but him (and maybe Donna or Rachel). 

So…why? All he was going to do was end up making more work for someone else. He could do the work, but then on Monday some other associate would have to redo all of it in order to make sense of it. Why even bother? 

He shook the thoughts away.

It had been his lifelong dream to be a lawyer and he had thought it impossible, people had been telling him it was impossible, until recently. And it had happened. Through no shortage of luck, both bad and good, he finally had realized a dream of his. He had succeeded at something. He had won. How many people could say that? 

Resolutely, he gathered the finished briefs and rose from his small desk.

These were his last days as a lawyer and he was going to make them count for something. 

\--

Harold wasn’t quite sure what exactly had gotten into Ross, but he was both a bit concerned by and a bit impressed with the sheer amount of work he was getting done. Mike had always worked fast, but this was at another level entirely. He was working like a madman hurriedly scribbling notes in green pen, tearing relentlessly through the paperwork. 

When he saw him leave to deliver the files to Louis (and/or Mr. Specter), he had assumed that he’d be leaving shortly afterwards. Why stay when you’ve finished all of your work? He knew he’d jump at the chance to finish his work early and go home for the night at a respectable time. But then Mike had come back holding another, smaller stack of folders and he’d been a bit confused. He had started working on them immediately. He didn’t complain, or groan, or even acknowledge that he had probably been planning on doing something other that editing briefs that evening. He had just sat down and started working. And he hadn’t stopped. Not for coffee. Not for Red Bull. Not for food. He just worked, hour after hour, until everyone else was getting ready to call it quits for the day. And then he _kept going_.

Harold just didn’t _get_ it. 

The case wasn’t an “important” one. Probably a pro bono. 

He winced at how that sounded in his head. 

Most likely it was a pro bono. No one had come to the associates’ den to drag any of them off to talk about a case, so it wasn’t anything high profile. 

So why was Ross working on it like it was the most important thing in the world? 

It just didn’t make any sense. But then again, maybe it didn’t have to. Maybe that’s why Mike was a better lawyer than any of them. Even as he, the only other person left in the office, was leaving, Mike was still working as hard as ever. 

“Don’t work yourself too hard,” he'd said, stopping by Mike’s cubicle as adjusted the weight of his briefcase in his hand. “The case’ll still be here tomorrow.”

The other associate started at the sudden noise directed at him. 

Harold gave a small smile and quickly walked towards the elevators, missing the small, strained smile he received in return.

He could still see Mike hunched over his desk, pen in hand, as the elevator doors closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this became an invisible chapter. I know I posted it last night, but I have no idea what happened to it. So here goes take two. 
> 
> Sorry, for being made of suck for these past few months. Life got a bit hectic and I never could sit down to just finish writing the dang chapter. Things seem to be calming down quite a bit though, so hopefully it won't take forever and a day to finish the next part. 
> 
> About the story: there are probably one, maybe two, parts left of this part of the story. I'm planning on having two more parts to this story arc: one through Mike's deployment and another after. I have a basic framework laid out for this, but I'm trying to fill it in a bit more before I actually get started writing it. 
> 
> So thanks for being patient and here's to hoping that it doesn't take a million years to update again!


	10. Chapter 10

Friday came much faster than anyone anticipated and no one was ready for it. 

Donna hadn’t allowed Mike to do his work in his cubicle and had instead set him up a small work area in Harvey’s office. It was within her sight and Harvey’s and Mike was sure she had put it like that intentionally. Harvey, for once, had no objection to sharing his office.

They worked mostly without speaking, only breaking their silence to offer comments and insights about the work they were doing and pointedly ignoring the fact that it was Mike’s final day at Pearson Hardman.

“What time is your flight tomorrow?” Harvey eventually asked. It would do no good to ignore it forever.

“Eleven.” 

He nodded and made an absent noise of acknowledgement. 

“Ray will pick you up at eight.” 

“You really don’t have to-” Mike quietly objected. 

“Mike,” he interrupted, voice leaving no room for argument. 

They both fell silent again. 

“I’m staying at the motel on Goldmann and 8th,”Mike sighed “I’ve already turned in the keys to my apartment.” 

“We’ll be there at eight,” Harvey repeated. 

And if Mike noticed that Harvey had said “we” instead of “Ray” this time, well, he wasn’t going to say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went ahead and decided to post the really short chapter now and then the long chapter later today. A chapter break turned out to be the best transition between the two parts. I had hoped to have the next chapter finished by now, but I had to go out of town unexpectedly this morning. Fortunately, the next chapter's about 92% done so finishing it up shouldn't take forever.
> 
> This next chapter will be the last for this particular storyline. I've already got bits and pieces of Part II, which will be called Hoobaale, written so a first chapter for that should be up shortly after this one wraps up. 
> 
> Hope y'all have a good night/day/morning and I'll have the next part posted today!


	11. Chapter 11

He left Pearson Hardman at 6:00 PM on Friday evening. 

He smiled bitterly to himself as he walked towards the elevator for what would be his last time as an associate. 

_If you only stay until 6:00, you’ll never make it past your first year._

Lot of good all those sleepless nights had done him. 

The stares of the other associates in the bullpen burned at his back. He heard the hushed mutterings following him as the shining metal doors grew closer and closer. 

The elevator doors pinged as they open and he stepped inside the waiting car. 

He kept staring straight ahead even long after the doors slid closed. 

6:05 PM.

He hailed a cab and directed it to his grandmother’s nursing home. 

The cabbie seemed to pick up on his distraction and made no attempts to start a conversation. They sat in silence. Mike appreciated it. He had a lot to think about. 

It took a bit over forty minutes to get to his grandmother’s care home. 

(6: 48 PM, he noticed as he glanced at his watch yet again)

He gave the cabbie a generous tip for his silence and went inside. 

6:50 PM.

Technically, visiting hours ended in ten minutes. But he was on a first name basis with the entire evening staff and undoubtedly they all knew what was happening by now. Grammy never was good at keeping things to herself. 

The nurse behind the sign-in counter looked up from her computer and gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“Go ahead in, Mike.” 

He nodded his acknowledgement at her and headed directly for his grandmother’s room. 

She was sitting at the small table in her room waiting for him when he got there. 

He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and sat down in the seat across from her. 

“You’re going to keep an old woman up past her bedtime?” she asked cheekily. 

“Of course,” he replied. “Some things’ll never change.”

* * *

10: 53 PM, 2253 hours. 

He stayed long past the end of visiting hours. 

None of the nightshift nurses had the heart to kick him out. 

In the end, he only left because his grandmother was having trouble staying awake for any longer. Eventually, she had just fallen asleep. 

He kissed her gently on the forehead and then was gone.

* * *

11: 31 PM, 2331 hours.

The motel room was almost claustrophobically small. It housed a small, twin-sized bed covered in a truly garish green comforter, a generic wooden nightstand, a table lamp, and nothing else. A small bathroom was nestled in the back of the room. There wasn’t much room for anything else; there was barely enough space to move around freely as it was. 

Somehow, he still managed to pace around. His meager possessions lay underneath the nightstand. This was all he had left right now. 

11:54 PM, 2354 hours. 

The bed slept like a sack of rocks. It was possibly the least comfortable thing that he had ever tried to sleep on. And that included the solid ground that he had so often slept on during his last time in the field. 

But he had no complaints because it was a bed and even just that was more than he got sometimes. 

0013 hours. 

Despite this, he still couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t for lack of trying; he had laid down intent on going to bed for the night no less than three separate times and each time he had climbed back out of the bed within minutes, unable to go get comfortable enough to consider going to sleep. 

It felt as though everything were moving too fast. His brain, his heart, his life. Everything kept moving and he was struggling to keep up with the pace. 

0037 hours. 

He sighed as he checked the time on his watch for what had to be the hundredth time. He had to be awake in less than seven hours and he still hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. 

He knocked one of the pillows from the bed onto the floor. 

He lay down on the ground. He might as well try to sleep comfortably. 

0648 hours. 

The sound the siren and horns of an ambulance tearing down the street awoke him. The sounds of New York City…he’d miss them. He sighed as he looked at his watch. The alarm on his phone was set to go off in about ten minutes. Not much point in going back to sleep now. 

He stood up and stretched, feeling his bones pop. 

0652 hours. 

Shower. 

He took his time with that. This was probably going to be the last time for a long while that he’d be able to take a long, hot shower. 

Floss. 

Not fun, but necessary. 

Brush teeth. 

Same. 

Brush and trim hair. 

‘Stylishly messy’ wouldn’t go over so well at Little Creek. Keeping it just a bit shorter would make his life much easier. 

_Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity_ his brain reminded him. 

0727 hours. 

He put his shirt on before his pants and carefully checked to make sure it was fully tucked in. Tie. Belt. Socks. 

It took him a moment to recall the proper order of his ribbons, but once he did he carefully slid them into the ribbon rack and secured it to the front of his service coat. 

He swallowed thickly as he adjusted his gig line. It was all real now. He was here. Ready to go. Again. Ready to leave everyone and everything that he loved. Again. 

He checked his shoelaces. Laced left over right. Ends tucked away. 

He was stalling. He knew he was. But he also knew that no amount of stalling was going to prevent him from having to be on a plane to Virginia in a few short hours.

He checked the time again. 

0748 hours. 

He hefted his bag onto his shoulder, tucked his cap under his arm, and didn’t look back once as he strode out the door. He had to check out of this place. 

0753 hours. 

If there was one good thing about staying in a motel that charged by the hour, it was that they had mastered making checkout a quick and painless process. 

He had walked in, rang the bell and a disinterested brunette had come from a room behind the counter to check him out. It had taken him longer to walk over there than it had to actually check out. 

He sat down on the bench out front and waited. 

He didn’t have to wait long, however; Ray was in front of the motel at precisely 0800 hours. 

Ray pulled the town car alongside the curb, and climbed out of the driver’s side to open the trunk of the car. 

“Morning Ray,” he greeted, pleasant but subdued. 

“Good morning, Mike.” 

The latch of the trunk gave a quiet _click_ and Ray stepped to the side to pull it open. Mike unceremoniously dumped his bag into the compartment and slammed it shut before approaching the passenger side of the car. 

Harvey was already waiting in the back. 

“Rachel, Donna, and Edith are going to meet us there,” he said by way of greeting as Mike climbed into the car. 

As soon as he pulled the door closed, the car slowly moved forward. 

“You got Grammy out of the home?” 

“She got herself out,” Harvey half-heartedly groused. “Nothing will stop that old woman once she has her mind set on something.” 

“She told you off for not telling her about your plans, didn’t she.” 

One look at him said more than enough.

Grammy had _eaten him alive_.

He snorted. 

“I showed up at the home _to_ tell her,” Harvey objected. 

“This morning. Admit it. You got bulldozed by an octogenarian,” Mike smirked, obviously enjoying Harvey’s misfortune. 

His smile quickly faded as he remembered why he was there. 

The car fell silent. 

“Harold’s your new associate, right?” Mike asked after a long moment. 

Harvey nodded sharply. 

“Good. He’s good. Needs to be a bit more confident, but he’ll get that in time.” 

“Mike, the offer I made earlier still stands.” 

“So does my reasoning for saying no,” he quietly reminded. 

Neither of them said another word until they reached the airport.

* * *

They saw Donna first as they pulled into the passenger drop-off area. Her bright red hair stood out easily through the throng of people. Rachel and Grammy stood next to her, each nervously scanning the passing cars for a glimpse of Ray’s. 

As soon as they saw him, they quickly walked over to the open loading area to meet with them. 

He was wrapped in a hug as soon as he stepped out of the car. 

“Be careful, okay,” Rachel murmured.

“I’ll try.” 

He turned to Donna. 

“Edith has a pass to go with you to the gate,” Donna explained, unprompted. 

“Thank you, Donna” he said giving her a faint, thankful smile.

She nodded. 

“This just means that you’re going to have to take me out to lunch when you get back,” she concluded, waving her hand dismissively. 

“I’ll take you to the best pizza joint you’ve ever been to,” he promised “The cheese in the crust will blow your mind.” 

He gave her a quick hug, which she returned. 

“It’s a deal.” 

Ray gave him a reassuring clap to the shoulder and a promise to pick him up from the airport the next time he was in town. 

Harvey stood to the side, unaccustomed to the (admittedly understandable) display of emotion. 

“I know you’re not so good with the “caring” thing, but still,” Mike began. He gave him a quick hug. One so quick that it was over before Harvey even registered what had happened. 

“So long and thanks for all the fish, Harvey.” 

He offered his arm to his grandmother. 

“Shall we?” 

And they disappeared into the crowd of people.

* * *

They passed through security with little problem: Mike’s Common Access Card and a copy of his orders ensured that the majority of airport security was very understanding when it came to several aspects of his travel. An airport worker escorted his grandmother though her security checkpoints. 

He met with her on the other side and quietly reclaimed her arm and began the long trek to the gate. 

1020 hours.

They had just enough time to stop to get a small breakfast before it was time to start boarding. 

He ordered tea and muffins for the both of them. 

They ate in silence. 

“I’ll write as much as I can,” he promised, not for the first time and not for the last time. 

“I know you will,” she smiled at him.

“I’m so proud of you, Michael.” 

He just nodded, a sudden tightness in his throat.

* * *

1040 hours. 

They stood at the gate, waiting. 

“Now boarding Flight 390 to Norfolk, Virginia. Passengers seated in first-class and uniformed military personnel may board at this time.” 

He gave her one final kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll call when I get to Norfolk,” he promised, pulling her in for one last hug. 

She held him a bit tighter.

“Make sure you send me one of those emails with your address when you get a chance,” she requested.

“’Yes, ma’am.”

He pulled away reluctantly and slowly made his way over to the boarding line, watching out of the corner of his eye as the young airport worker escorted his grandmother back toward the airport entrance. 

When she disappeared from his sight, he looked straight ahead mentally bracing himself for what was sure to be a long deployment. 

_Lieutenant Ross, reporting for duty._


End file.
